Great Stories of the Bible 1

The Sweepstakes Winner.

So, Soapbox, who won the Nude MILF Sweepstakes, never claimed her or his prize.  On the one hand, I kind of had a feeling this might happen.  On the other hand, I expected to find an email in my inbox right after the deadline because that’s how shit happens.

So, as I said in my last boring entry, now I will choose a second chance winner from the people who have voted for Crissy for Hottest Mommy Blogger for 2009.  I will choose that winner Tuesday afternoon.  So, this is your last fucking chance.  You must send me your username before the drawing because I have no intention of keeping this camera for another week.  If I don’t know who you are, I will choose another winner.  Period.  After I randomly draw the second-chance winner, I will randomly draw the winner of the camcorder from among the blogs that pimped the contest, so if your blog did not appear among the list in my last boring entry, let me know.  Note that the second-chance winner and the pimping winner have no relation to one another.  That is all.  You have until noon tomorrow to vote.  Do it now and send me your username.  Note that I do not need your password.

Great Stories of the Bible.

I am a big fan of the bible.

Those of you who have been following for a while may be as stoogepious at this point as I am.  If not, I want converts.

So, I have decided that, in order to bring you into the fold, I will illustrate an important bible story every now and then, complete with an explanation of the lessons it teaches us.  Today’s story is the entire 19th chapter of Judges.  It is a great story and teaches us some very valuable lessons.  I have been faithful to the original story.  The only change I have made is to get rid of the extras — a servant boy and two donkeys — but the rest of the story is in there without censorship or embellishment.

Enjoy.

That’s all I have to say about the bible for right now, but stay tuned for more Great Stories of the Bible in the future.

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Eat Me! No, Really….

I’ve been working on a long comic project that is not ready yet.  I hope to have it ready to post soon.  In the meantime, file this entry under shit you (hopefully) did not know about the internet. 

There is a lot of pretty crazy shit on the internet.  I often think that the internet brings out the worst in people.  Or, at least, it gives some pretty fucked up people an easy way to find similarly fucked up people.

As an example, you have probably heard of Hot or Not, where people post their pictures and get rated on their hotness by anonymous nobodies.  Well, have you ever taken a shit that was just magnificent?  Now there is Rate My Poo!  When you take a dump that is really special, all you need to do is take a picture and upload it to Rate My Poo so that anonymous nobodies can give your crap a score.  As of tonight, Rate My Poo has 18,316 pictures of shit on it.

And I have talked about dating sites like the one for the mentally ill who want to date other mentally ill people before, but there are also dating sites for the morbidly obese who want to get even more fat and for gay thugs.  (On Gay Thug Dating, check out this thug if you dare.) 

What I have not been able to find is a dating site devoted to cannibals.  See, cannibalism is pretty big on the internet.  Yes, I said cannibalism.

A while ago I happened upon this website for dudes who have fantasies about eating women after they cook them.  It is called Muki’s Kitchen, and it features picture after picture of women with apples in their mouths being impaled, roasted, microwaved, and fried alive.

I agree that women are pretty tasty, but cooking women before you eat them seems like it might make sex after dinner less interesting.  I’m assuming there would be sex after dinner or why would I even bother cooking?  And, I know I am the first dude to ever think of this, but doesn’t cooking and eating a woman sort of suck for her?

Also, you know, what do you talk about with someone you are going to eat?  Does she know you are going to eat her?

In case you think this is just some crazy fantasy, look up Armin Meiwes.  This dude advertised on an internet bulletin board appropriately named the Cannibal Cafe for a victim to be cooked and eaten.  He used the screen name “Franky.”  Many people responded who wanted to be cooked and eaten.  At least twenty potential victims actually went to his house and, while some chickened out, he rejected some others.

Now, you know, I go to clubs and bars and shit, so I am no stranger to rejection.  It happens.  But how does it feel to be rejected as a fucking cannibal victim?

One dude finally responded who apparently met Armin’s tastes and, to prove it, Armin ate the guy.

The Cannibal Cafe bulletin board had a list of available human livestock and applications for those who wanted to be livestock.  Because, you know, you want to show a little discrimination about whom you cook and eat.  But it was a highly moral place.  On the front page, it warned that it would not tolerate participation in its cannibalistic activities by minors.  Or, as those of us in the know like to say, “no veal.”

Anyway, there is cannibalism afoot.  Pun intended.  So, the next time you go to a club and you meet a nice stud or chick, check them out extra carefully.  You may be looking for an ass buffet, but she or he may be looking for the same thing.  Only different.

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Mental Health Mayday Part 2

So, I wrote last time about how May is National Mental Health Month.  Woohoo! 

I want to continue that post here.  I have a lot of very personal experience with insane people that you just might find helpful.

I have dated a lot of women.  And a lot of them have been crazy.  You don’t often find out that women are crazy while you are out in a public place with them.  They seem perfectly sane and very hot until you get them home or, even worse, until your dick is ready to do its business.

There is nothing wrong with fucking crazy women.  Sometimes it can be great.  I went out with one woman who was totally shit out of her fucking mind.  We met at a bar where she was too young to be drinking.  This is almost exactly what she told me that very first night.

Anyway, I went out with her for over a whole year.  I really wanted to break up with her because she was driving me fucking nuts, but I was afraid that nobody else would do all the nasty sex shit that she was perfectly happy to do.  I miss her.

Another time I went out with a perfectly normal woman who was wicked fucking sexy.  We went out a couple of times and it was lame, but her hotness demanded that I keep trying.  So, I insisted that we have dinner at my house.  This was only fair because I had spent like a fucking grand on dinners and entertainment already.

So I made dinner.  Really, I cooked the whole thing from recipes off the internet.  I can’t remember what I made but it was fucking incredible for me.  I don’t even think it cost anything less than going to a fancy restaurant, except that I got to take advantage of my borderline alcoholism by simply serving wine from my vast but cheap wine.com collection. 

We ate dinner and everything was great.  She didn’t eat much, but she was one of those food-pickers who never ate much.  She said she loved the food, though, and asked lots of questions about how it had been prepared.  Then she excused herself to go to the bathroom.  I cleared dishes.  After she came back, I went to take a piss.  While I was pissing, I noticed a smell: vomit.  She had puked.  I made her dinner, she ate it, and then she puked.

Now, what do you do when somebody pukes right after you serve them dinner?  I mean, is it unreasonable for me to want for you to digest the food I make and then shit it out instead of just puking it into the toilet right after you eat?  So, I did the only thing that seemed reasonable.  I asked her if she wanted dessert.  She said, “sure.”

I had actually bought the dessert but I lied and said I had made it.  To make the lie stick, I had looked up recipes on the internet.  I hope you are taking notes.

Anyway, she ate some dessert, then went back to the bathroom.  I cleared the dishes, opened some more wine, then checked the bathroom and, yep, she had puked again.

I was pretty sure by now that she was bulimic.  But whatever.  She was really fucking hot.  So, we sit on the couch and talk, we drink more, we kiss, we start to feel each other up.  She is pretty drunk, I guess.  And, after a while, she does something pretty fucking aggressive.  She moves her face into my lap like she is going to blow me.  I’m thinking, “Yes!” 

But, no, she pukes in my crotch.  Yes.  Pukes.  In.  My.  Crotch.  I didn’t even know what it was at first.

So, she had the same reaction to my meat that she had to all meat.  She stayed the night but she just slept.  I was glad to see her go in the morning.  Somehow, I still smelled like puke the next morning as she smelled like she had just washed her hair.

I could keep going.  I have a lot of experience with insane women.  But rather than share a bunch of anecdotes, I have developed some basic guidelines.  Manic-Depressives are awesome if they are in their manic phase.  They are perfect as on-again-off-again fuckbuddies.  Schizophrenics are often boring and suburban once they get treated and their meds are working.  And if they are off their meds, they talk too fucking much.  And I mean I-See-Dead-People talk.  Stay away.  Anorexics are fine if they are early-stage anorexics, and they often look fucking incredible!  Bulimics don’t give good head: hair trigger gag reflex.  Obsessive-compulsives?  Well, it depends.

I did not just make up those guidelines.  They are based on my hard-won experience.  I have not just met crazy women at clubs and such, but also through online dating services like match.com.  My rough estimation:

But you can dramatically improve these odds by looking for — yes, that’s right, seeking — insane women and using my guidelines. 

I recently discovered No Longer Lonely.  This dating site is fucking awesome!  Okay, you will need to join to really get into it but, no kidding, this is the best fucking dating website ever.  Oh, did I mention that you have to be insane to join?  Yeah, you do.  I qualified.

I had my misgivings at first.  When you sign up, you have to tell them how you are crazy.  Here is what the form looks like:

Notice anything missing?  See, I was hoping to cut through the bullshit and focus my searches with laser sharpness, so I had really hoped that either hypersexuality or nymphomania would be listed.  Neither is there.  So you need to choose among the illnesses provided and then use the profiles and email to figure out which women are the real fuck monkeys.

But, I have to tell you, the women here are totally fucking incredible.  There are too many dudes joining the website right now, but that’s because the talent is so good.  About 80% of the women fall somewhere between cute and unbe-fucking-lievable.  I don’t want to post pictures of them here because that would be wrong and I also want the hottiest of the hotties for myself.  But, for instance, here is the most important part of the profile of one totally wicked sweet babe:

Ripe for the picking.

Like I said, a lot of guys are joining recently and that’s no surprise,  But the best part is, the competition is fucking nuts!  Here is one dude’s entire profile who has a screen name that is eerily similar to “IKillKittens.”

Here is another.  This dude is a little bit country, and a little bit off his rocker.

Need I say more?

So, if you’re crazy and looking for a crazy chick who also happens to be incredibly hot, this is the dating site for you.  I’ll see you there!

That’s all I have to say about insanity for now.  But, hey, May has only just begun.  Enjoy National Mental Health Month!

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Mental Health Mayday Part 1

May is National Mental Health month.  Woohoo!

There are a lot of crazy people in this country and, I suppose, around the world.  (For those of you just reading for the first time, I am in the United States.  Thanks for playing.)

My general opinion is that crazy people are not really a whole lot different from sane people.  Except for the crazy part.

A few weeks ago, somebody I work with went crazy.  She was sane on Thursday.  Then on Friday, I noticed that she seemed a bit talkative.  Then on Monday, whammo!, she was totally fucking insane. 

Over the weekend, she had realized that everyone in my office was involved in a massive conspiracy to subject her to military training and that we were trying to break her will so that we could turn her into the perfect soldier.  She wrote a fifteen-page manifesto about all of this, which she emailed to me.  It was fucking hilarious. 

Well, it was hilarious for a few days.  After that, crazy people start to get on your nerves.  Everything is about them.  Oh, sure, this is boot camp for you.  Oh, work is like a concentration camp for you.  Oh, the psychological abuse, physical violence, and just plain old drudgery of work in an office are dismantling your spirit and transforming you into a killing machine.  Hey, we work here, too, you know?  Get off your fucking soapbox, already.  It’s not about you!  The rest of us feel the same fucking way!

After about a week of this bullshit, we were ready to frag her ass.  I would walk past her desk and say, “Look alive, private.”  If we thought she was watching, we would salute one another as we passed in the halls.

It’s not that we were insensitive.  Listen, mental illness sucks dick for dimes, okay?  We all know that.  But it also wears away at the living.

A while ago, a friend of mine — let’s call him Jake — had a father with Alzheimer’s.  After his dad’s Alzheimer’s got really bad, the family strapped him to the silver trolley and sent him to the senior slammer.  So, Jake’s dad is in this old folks home for a couple of years and my friend’s mom lives alone in a house in the real world, the land of the living.

Well, one day Jake’s mom dies.  So, a couple of days later, Jake drives up to the geezer museum to tell his old man that his wife of like forty years is dead.  Jake is really nice about it, and he hangs out with the old dude for a while and brings him manosaurus treats and all.  And after a little while, the old man asks, “So, how is your mother?”  And Jake tells him.  “Dad, I do have some really bad news.  Mom passed away on Tuesday.”  So they both cry and tell stories about how wonderful mom was.  And after about fifteen minutes of this, they are in the middle of one of those wonderful stories when the old man says, “So, how is your mother?”  Jake is a little shocked at this question but then he remembers that his dad has Alzheimer’s.  So Jake breaks it to him gently again.  “Dad, mom passed away on Tuesday.”  So they cry and tell stories about how wonderful mom was again.  And, again, the fossil interrupts one of those touching stories by asking , “So, how is your mother?” 

Now, Jake loves his dad and all that, but this happened a buttload of times.  And by the tenth time this is what it was like. 

See, people with mental issues are a lot like the rest of us, except for the crazy part.  And the thing about it is, they make us act crazy.  Insanity is contagious.

I will write about just how contagious insanity is in another post about dating crazy chicks.  I have, unfortunately, plenty of material for that post, so I don’t want to tack it onto this one.  But here is the spoiler: not one — not even one of those psychotic bitches — was a nymphomaniac.

Suckage.

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